The Short Story Conglomeration
by lyrisca
Summary: A collection of unrelated short stories centered around Sheldon and Penny. Anything goes!
1. All Pantsed Up

_The problem with being incredibly late to the Big Bang Theory Fanfiction party is that every prompt I run through my head has been kicked around three times over by the rest of the fandom (and usually in a brilliant and well-written way. There are some amazing writers in this fandom!). I usually discover this _after_ I've already written something, which is, you know. Whatever. But still, I have an extremely guilty place in my heart for tropes and cliches and scene continuations, and I will probably keep writing them forever and ever. _

_Here is a perfect example. Remember way back in 3x18 when Sheldon put on that devilishly dashing suit and Penny basically jizzed in her pants on screen? I decided to elaborate on that scene a little._

* * *

Three ridiculous suits later, Sheldon finally emerges from the dressing room in the suit Penny chose for him, all angles and dark sophistication, and Penny is having difficulty gathering her jaw from the floor.

Men come in many shapes and sizes. Kurt, Penny's ex, looks best in a loincloth; Leonard, Penny's boyfriend, looks best in casual jeans and a t-shirt. His posture and demeanor are too poor for a suit; he slumps and whines and anything formal looks far too large and misshapen for his body. Sheldon, however...

The ridiculous layered superhero shirts and knaki pants had hidden it from her for three years. The man _belongs_ in a well-fitted suit and tie. He has the confidence for it, the arrogance, the legs that go on for days and the narrow, slender form. Penny has a sudden horrible urge to grab him by the tie and pull him over to her.

"This is absurd. I look like a clown!"

Penny wants to slap him, he is so wrong. She frowns, comes back a little from the strange thoughts skittering around in her brain. "Sheldon, 'clown' describes all of your choices up to now. You look very... very..." She trails off.

"Very what?" It almost feels like he's looking for her approval; he'd seemed so downtrodden when she'd stomped all over his previous suits.

"Hot." The word escapes from her lips before she has to chance to swallow it. Oh, God, I'm objectifying Dr. Sheldon Cooper PhD, she thinks. Instant mortification. This is some awful level of Hell where my sexual orientation has betrayed me.

"I am rather warm," Sheldon says in agreement. "The suit jacket is thick and the slacks are itchy..."

For once, Penny is incredibly grateful for Sheldon's crappy knowledge of colloquialisms. "Whatever. You're buying this one. Trust me on this."

"I don't know..." Sheldon turns and glances at himself in the full-length mirror. "I thought the white suit was pretty sharp."

"Absolutely not." Penny plants a hand on his back and propels him toward the dressing room. She reminds herself not to follow him in. "You're getting this one. Hurry up and change."

"But I just put it on—"

"SHELDON."

Sheldon almost flinches a little. Almost. "All right, all right."

* * *

The night of the banquet arrives, and Sheldon's nervousness is putting them all a little on edge.

"We have a half hour," Leonard says worriedly, glancing at his watch. Penny wants to burn his choice of clothing for the evening, along with the plaid abomination that she knows is neatly tucked away somewhere in the far reaches of Sheldon's closet. But she's tried fixing Leonard's problem before, to no avail. The problem isn't the clothes; the problem is Leonard.

So Penny pats him on the chest, gives him a half-hearted smile, and then saunters down the hallway toward Sheldon's room.

"Sweetie, are you ready?" she asks the closed door.

No response.

She tries the doorknob which turns easily in her hand. Sheldon is perched on the edge of his bed, fully dressed with his tie draped around his neck. He looks absolutely dejected.

"I don't know if I can do this, Penny," he mumbles, not looking up at her.

Penny feels something twinge inside her. "Are you worried that you're going to faint?"

"Yes." He chuckles bitterly. "How ridiculous is it that I, of all people, find it absolutely impossible to speak in front of crowds?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure I get it either," Penny says. She takes a seat next to him on the bed and begins fiddling with his tie. "But really, I don't think you have any reason to worry. You're going to be surrounded by friends and colleagues; nobody there will be evaluating you or anything like that. There's no reason to be afraid."

"I know that. But, strangely, it doesn't change the way I feel."

Penny loops the tie into a neat Windsor and edges the knot upward. Her fingers brush against his fluttering pulse as she pushes it into place. "There." She tries to give him an encouraging smile. "If it helps any, the suit looks great. Just don't slouch. Right now you look like Leonard."

A little smile tickles the edges of Sheldon's mouth. "He does have a chronic slouching problem. Low self-esteem I suspect."

Penny sighs. She doesn't want to talk about Leonard, not with Sheldon, not right now. "Come on, Moonpie, let's get this over with."

* * *

The champagne seems like a great idea, at the time. What Penny doesn't take into account is Sheldon's ridiculously low alcohol tolerance. A light buzz would have made him chatty and kept him from passing out on stage; half a bottle apparently makes him moon an entire room filled with scientists.

Seeing rear Sheldon nudity isn't as jarring and frightening as Penny expects it to be (not that she'd thought about it before, not that seeing Sheldon in a suit had makes her wonder what he looks like out of a suit). He has kind of a cute butt, actually, for someone so skinny. Extreme second-hand embarrassment eventually worms its way through Penny's sudden appraisal, and she is immediately compelled to get him off of the stage.

"But I still have 972 amusing physics facts to share!" Sheldon whines as Penny latches onto him with one arm and grabs his pants with the other.

"I think you've reached your sharing quota for the evening," Leonard mutters from the other side of Sheldon.

He's not the only one, Penny thinks sourly.

Of course, Penny is given the job of dragging Sheldon off to the bathroom to make him presentable again (although she doesn't protest because this is sort of her fault, really), and as she's trying to straighten him up, he grins broadly and places a hand on her forearm.

"I didn't faint!" he proclaims proudly.

She does her best to ignore the burn of his fingertips. "No, but you did make an ass out of yourself. No pun intended."

"But I didn't faint!"

Penny shakes her head, but she can't stop the small smile creeping its way through her features. Sheldon's eyes are sly and bright, and Penny finds herself wondering if he didn't know this would happen all along. If he didn't simply need the excuse.

"Thank you, Penny," Sheldon murmurs, his voice suddenly serious and his body close to hers. The world tumbles haphazardly and Penny looks away. It's too much to acknowledge, too damning and worrying to meet his gaze.

"Has Sheldon regained his pants?" The question fills the room and Penny jumps. Leonard, poor clueless Leonard, wanders in with a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"All pantsed up," Penny says quietly. She's aware that she's still standing too close to Sheldon, that his hand is still on her arm, but she can't seem to convince herself to turn away.

"Good. Is there any way that you can take him home, along with Raj? Howard and I are working on damage control, but it'd probably be best if the two drunks left the party early."

"Yeah, sure," Penny hears herself say. She risks a glance upward and feels Sheldon's grip on her arm tighten.

"Thanks." Leonard leans forward for a kiss, and suddenly the moment is over. Sheldon's hand flutters away and Penny has to remind herself to kiss Leonard back when he touches his lips to hers. "I'll see you later."

Penny nods and watches him go. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and is struck by the sadness in her eyes, by the expression on Sheldon's face and the intensity of his gaze.

The fire of his fingers and the sting of his eyes stay with her as she heads for the door.


	2. Christmas Shopping

_Before we begin - I don't own Harvest Moon, Abercrombie & Fitch, Yankee Candles, Jelly Belly jelly beans, Sears, eBay, or, for good measure, the Big Bang Theory. Man, they ought to pay me for all of this product placement!_

* * *

"Sheldon, let's go Christmas shopping!"

"No." He was hunched over a video game controller, staring intently at the television screen.

"Come on, Sheldon! Leonard's gone all day today, and you said last week that you'd go if you weren't busy and if I promised to take you to the comic book store afterward."

"Yes, well, I'm busy today." He jabbed the A button twice and didn't look up.

Penny rolled her eyes. "You are not busy, Sheldon. You're playing... Leonard's farming game?" She rested her arms on the back of the couch. "I thought you said you hated this game."

"I do," Sheldon agreed, "but Leonard has been neglecting his cows and has absolutely no idea how to find his character a wife."

"A wife?" Penny blinked. "You can get married?"

"Oh, yes. The game is somewhat addictive, actually, at least for Leonard. A mundane virtual life to replace his equally mundane real life."

"Well, anyway, you aren't busy. Let's go."

Sheldon's farmer was lovingly petting the cows on the television. "No."

"Sheldon... I will, uh, give you five free passes to knock on my door before 11 am without being punched in the throat."

He paused the game and looked at her. "And?"

"...And I'll convince Leonard to let you pick out the next five movies on our movie nights, with no griping or complaining allowed."

"Hmm." He considered and then un-paused his game. "Put it in writing and I'll go."

Sighing, Penny went to find a pen and paper.

* * *

"I'm not sure I understand why you insisted that I come along," Sheldon complained as they entered the closest gigantic mall.

"I need your help finding a good Christmas present for Leonard. I want to get him something really awesome that he'll love, and you know more about his likes and dislikes than I do."

"That's interesting, considering you're the one dating him," Sheldon quipped.

Penny shot him a glare. "You know what I mean. Science stuff."

"If you want to get him something related to science, you are searching in exactly the wrong place. There aren't even Discovery stores in malls any longer."

Penny wasn't deterred. "I'm sure we'll find something!"

"You could just buy him something related to an activity you both enjoy," Sheldon offered. "Such as coitus?"

Penny looked embarrassed. "I am _not_ buying lingerie as a Christmas gift for Leonard!"

Sheldon shrugged. "It was just a suggestion."

They roamed the expansive floors of the mall together, passing store after store. Penny saw nothing for Leonard that caught her eye, but she saw plenty of things that she wanted for herself.

"Oh! Abercombie is having a sale!" Penny exclaimed as she began to wander toward the store entrance.

Sheldon planted himself outside of the store and crossed his arms. "I am not going in there."

Rolling her eyes, Penny grabbed his arm and dragged him forcibly inside.

"I can hardly think in here!" Sheldon yelled over the blaring bass. "And the smell is overwhelming."

"Stop complaining." Penny held up a trendy polo shirt with a moose embroidered on the left breast. "What do you think about this for Leonard?"

"As his Christmas present? Ridiculous."

"What? Everybody needs clothes."

Sheldon scoffed. "Leonard would look more out of place in those clothes than I would. And besides, it's certainly not a gift that he would particularly appreciate. You purchasing clothes for him insinuates that you do not approve of his current wardrobe, which in turn suggests that—"

"Shut up, Sheldon." Penny grabbed the next size up and handed it to Sheldon. "Here, you try it on."

"What? Why?"

"You just said Leonard would look more out of place in this shirt than you would. I don't think I believe that."

Sheldon rose an eyebrow, but didn't refuse. He wasn't one to back out of a challenge. "We'll see."

A handful of minutes later, while Sheldon was busy trying to wriggle out of two shirts without wrinkling them, a pair of jeans flopped over the top of the changing room door.

"Oh, no," Sheldon said immediately.

"Oh, yes," came the voice from the other side of the door. "The guy at the entrance guessed your size. I think he's into you."

Sheldon chose not to comment on that. "I don't wear blue jeans. They're far too casual and workaday."

"And your comic book t-shirts aren't?" Sheldon could visualize her expression despite the door between them. "Just try them on."

Sheldon made a derisive noise, but Penny heard his pants drop on the other side of the door.

* * *

Sheldon emerged from the dressing room clad in the offending shirt and a very well-fitting pair of jeans. The expression on his face was unreadable.

"Penny, I look..." he trailed off.

"Like a douchebag?" Penny barely got the word out before laughing.

"Not exactly my word of choice, but yes."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry." Penny wiped a stray laugh-induced tear from her eye. "You look pretty out of place. Although..."

"Although what?" He blinked, twitched uncomfortably in the stiff clothing.

"The jeans look pretty decent." Penny almost said 'good' but bit her tongue and changed her mind at the last second.

"Well, I still dislike them," Sheldon muttered, turning on his heel and shutting the dressing room door behind him. Penny let out a long-suffering sigh, but the ghost of a smile flickered on her lips.

* * *

"Ooh! Yankee candles!" Penny dragged Sheldon into yet another noisome store and held what appeared to be a candle out for him.

"Sniff," Penny instructed.

"It's hard not to, considering the cacophony of smells in this store," Sheldon complained. But he sniffed anyway. "Hmm. Smells like..."

"Buttercream frosting spread over a warm cake?"

Sheldon's eyes widened. "Yes, that's exactly it. How did you know?"

Penny showed him the label: Buttercream. "Remarkable," Sheldon admitted.

"It's too bad candles are against the Roommate Agreement," Penny remarked, sniffing another candle.

Sheldon nodded, but he almost looked disappointed. "Candles are an obvious fire hazard and are strictly prohibited."

"Yeah..." Penny thought for a minute. "Oh! Ever heard of Jelly Bellies?"

"The jelly beans?"

"Yep. They're kind of like these candles, but with taste and not smell. Buttered popcorn is my favorite!"

Sheldon made a face. "A buttered popcorn-flavored jelly bean? That sounds horrendous."

"Well, you won't know until you try it!"

* * *

Penny found herself standing in front of Victoria's Secret. Next to her, an oblivious Sheldon popped another jelly bean into his mouth.

"Oh! Cotton candy! How delightful!" Sheldon grinned as he enjoyed the flavor explosion.

Penny chewed on her bottom lip. "Maybe you were right, Sheldon. I haven't found anything yet for Leonard; maybe I should just get some lingerie."

Realizing the situation, Sheldon took a couple of steps back. "This doesn't look like a store where I will be welcome. Maybe I should just—"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's fine. Just... try not to get mauled."

The store was filled to the brim with customers (mostly girls) doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Penny made a b-line for the lingerie and began digging through the racks.

"This store is terrifying," Sheldon said when he found her minutes later. "I just saw two women fighting over a priced-down brassiere on the other side of this display. Is it really that important for a woman to have— what are you doing?"

Penny had plucked two outfits from the rack and was looking around warily. "Getting a dressing room. Now, I'm not really supposed to try these on, so I'm gonna have to be a little sneaky. Keep a look out, ok?" She patted him on the shoulder and disappeared down an empty, pink hallway.

"Oh, wonderful, now I'm an accomplice," Sheldon moaned. He looked around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to the dressing rooms; every employee was behind the front desk, checking out customers.

"Penny, I think you're in the clear," he whispered conspiratorially down the hallway. "This store is absolute chaos."

"Sheldon!" The harsh whisper floated to his ears from the end of the hall.

"Penny?" He took two steps, then hesitated. "I don't think I'm supposed to go down there."

"Just— Sheldon!" Penny's head peeked out from a dressing room, and she motioned for him to come closer.

Sheldon glanced around nervously before nearly sprinting down the hall. Within moments, Penny had grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him inside of her dressing room.

Blinking, Sheldon took in his surroundings. The room was small and cramped with two mirrors, a myriad of hooks and Penny scantily clad in black and pink lace.

Instantly, Sheldon snapped his eyes shut.

"I need help with these stupid hooks." Sheldon re-opened his eyes and saw Penny's back exposed before him, with two flaps of delicate fabric near her sides. Swallowing, he reached out his hands and began slipping hooks into eye-holes.

The feeling of Sheldon's nimble fingers against her spine sent a chill through Penny. She felt him hesitate, let out a breath, and continue to move his hands against her.

"There." His voice was so quiet that Penny barely heard him. Slowly, she turned around to face him.

"Thanks." Feeling self-conscious, Penny yanked on the short hem of the fabric. "So I'm thinking... this one."

Sheldon took in the image of Penny wearing so little. She often galloped around the apartment complex in very little clothing, but somehow this was... different. Her breasts strained against the tight, dark fabric and moved up and down as she breathed. Her legs emerged long and lean and perfectly tanned from beneath the alarmingly short skirt. Sweat tickled her brow and Sheldon was close enough to watch it form a tiny, perfect line of beads beneath a halo of blond hair.

"It seems... suitable," was all he could think to say.

"Suitable?" Penny raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's it?"

"Well," Sheldon began, clearing his throat, "the colors accent your skin tone as well as your hair color. The fabric favorably hugs your figure, and the no doubt intricate wiring and padding in the top portion of the outfit serves to enhance the visual appeal of your breasts."

"The visual appeal of my—" She stopped, blinked, and caught a glimpse of the strange look Sheldon was giving her. She thought about his eyes skimming over her body, taking in every nuance, and suddenly the dressing room felt incredibly warm.

Oh.

"Penny, I don't think I should be in here," Sheldon said, his voice low and heavy.

"Probably not," she agreed softly.

A loud rap against the dressing room door made both of them jump.

"Occupied," Penny said quickly, slamming a hand across Sheldon's mouth to keep him quiet, but a black-clad woman was already swinging the door wide open—

"What the hell?" exclaimed the Victoria's Secret employee.

"Oh, snap!" said the customer meant to occupy Penny's pilfered dressing room.

Penny took a hasty step away from Sheldon and threw her hands up defensively. "Look, it's not what it looks like—"

"I don't even _want_ to know," said the black-clad girl, her face a perfect portrait of disgust. "I hope you were planning on buying that garment, because now you don't have a choice."

Penny wasn't sure what to say. Sheldon was staring at her; the Victoria's Secret Sales Representative was staring at her; the amused customer was staring at her. Waiting. She took a deep breath.

"Okay, okay, just let me change!" She finally said, pushing Sheldon out of the room and slamming the door in everyone's face.

* * *

Penny and Sheldon spent an uncomfortable fifteen minutes in silence as they avoided the glares of the women behind the counter. Penny had the skimpy lingerie balled up and concealed under her arm, and Sheldon had a scarlet tinge to his cheeks that rivaled the gaudy pink of the carpets.

"Have a wonderful holiday," the check-out girl said sourly.

Penny gave her a pinched smile. "You bet."

* * *

"I'm sorry about, you know, that," Penny said a good ten minutes after they'd high-tailed it to Sears and started wandering through the bed and bath department of the store.

"It's a shame that down comforters are not entirely hypoallergenic," Sheldon commented as they walked. "They are quite warm and cozy."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, you apologized for the incident at Victoria's Secret." Sheldon tsk-tsked at the sheets in his hand. "What a disappointing thread count for such expensive sheets."

"The look on those girls' faces was pretty priceless, though," Penny admitted with a grin.

"I suspect they assumed that you and I were about to engage in a stealthy round of coitus in the dressing room."

Penny nearly choked on her handful of jelly beans.

"Although," she said after a moment of consideration, "I guess it's not that crazy for people to think of you and me... like that. You know, at first glance."

Sheldon turned away from the three stacks of pillows in front of him and eyed her. His gaze lingered long after she began to squirm and had to break eye contact.

"I suppose not," he murmured before once again focusing his attention on the pillows.

* * *

Penny ended up shoving the lingerie deep into her closet and buying Leonard a watch off of eBay.


	3. Hopelessness

_I am pretty much the worst person ever for writing this. Fair warning: This story features triggering situations. _

* * *

Tears, hot and angry, began stinging Penny's eyes the moment she stumbled into her apartment complex. She'd held it together during the long wait for a cab and the even longer ride home. The driver had asked her where to go, and she'd answered him in steady, sober tones. I'm all right, she'd thought, rubbing at the bruises on her arms and the painful tingling in her left cheek. Everything's all right.

But everything was far from being all right, and the lies deflated and betrayed her the instant she reached the safety of the foyer.

Through her waterlogged vision, she could see Sheldon fiddling with his mailbox. She didn't want to talk to him (or anybody, for that matter), so she quickly and quietly made her way to the stairs, hoping he wouldn't see her.

"Hello, Penny," he muttered the second her foot hit the bottom step. Damn it.

"Hi, Sheldon," she said, not looking back. One foot in front of the other, and maybe all of the problems will go away.

Sans one.

"Will you be joining us for dinner this evening? I am putting in the order soon and need to know—"

"No thanks," she responded automatically. She suddenly wished for wings, or the energy to run.

She knew without turning that Sheldon was fixing her with a confused glance. "My question was actually perfunctory, as you always join us for dinner. Is this related to money? Because I'm sure you could convince Leonard to buy it for you."

Yes, among other things. "No," she lied. "I'm just... having a bad day."

"Well, Thai food always makes me feel better," Sheldon said, hurrying to catch up with her, "except when it causes digestive distress, of course."

Penny still refused to meet his gaze. She tried to wipe at the tears wetting her cheeks without him seeing, but he was too observant.

"You're crying." They walked past 2A and 2B in silence, and then Sheldon asked, "Is something troubling you?"

"It's nothing." Penny finally looked over at him and tried to flash him a smile; it felt half-hearted. "I'm fine. Like I said, just a bad day."

"Well, all right." Another flight of steps in silence. "I only ask because you generally cry when faced with a stressful or emotionally trying situation."

Penny said nothing. They continued walking, up and up, until it was time for Penny to dig out her keys. She tried to ignore the shake of her hands as she pushed the key into the slot.

Sheldon turned the knob on his door, paused, and looked over his shoulder. "I'll come get you when the food arrives. I'll cover your share if Leonard won't."

The small, uncharacteristic kindness warmed something up within her, just a bit. "Sure. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Both doors clicked shut, and Penny was alone again. The tears were gone, replaced by a terrible weight in her chest. She felt helpless and on the verge of panic.

"A bath," she said aloud to herself. She would feel better once she washed the feeling of that dickhead from her skin, maybe. Probably not as good as she'd felt when she jammed her foot into his groin and scrambled out of the vice-grip he'd had on her. At least she'd gotten away before... well.

Things could be worse, she told herself as she plugged the shower drain and turned the water on, as hot as it'd go. They've never been worse than this, but they could be.

Everything had gone to shit a week ago when her car broke down and her monumental douchebag of a boss fired her for 'too many customer complaints'. In reality, she knew it was because she'd resisted his advances for years and he was sick of it. When she went to him today and begged for her job back (and she doesn't beg, _ever_), he'd grabbed her arms and whispered in her ear that if she was a good enough fuck, she could have her shitty waitress job.

The awful thing was that, for a split second, she'd considered it.

Really, what do I have to lose? she'd thought to herself as her ex-boss ran his grimy paws all over her. I can't land an acting job, I'm not smart enough to finish college, and I can't find a guy who has any interest in anything besides my body.

It turned out that her dignity was apparently still intact, because she was soon pulling away from him, saying 'no' and 'stop' and all of those words that are supposed to work but never do. When she finally had to resort to planting her foot between his legs, he'd somehow had enough of his wits about him to clock her in the face before collapsing to the ground in a pathetic heap.

She should have been feeling empowered, great, just fucking fine and dandy. But instead she felt utterly lost, and empty, and drowning in debt. She couldn't pay a single bill because she didn't have an income, or any savings to speak of. She had thousands of dollars in credit card bills to pay. She'd been applying for shitty jobs all day, but the entire process felt demeaning. She was no more qualified than a high schooler to do anything; she might as well be working at McDonald's. Taking out loans and going back to school wasn't even an option, considering her lousy credit history. She was absolutely screwed.

Her friends were going to law school, married with children, enjoying minor but promising acting careers. Her neighbors were geniuses. And she couldn't even hold down a menial job.

With a heavy sigh, Penny lowered herself into the hot water. She scrubbed her skin until it was pink and rosy, and then leaned back and sunk below the water's surface until only her nose was visible.

I guess I could be a stripper, she thought grimly as she trailed a hand over her breasts and down her abdomen. Nice body? Check. Daddy issues? Check. Lack of self-worth? Getting there.

The water should have relaxed her, but instead it seemed oppressive, claustrophobic. She took a breath, closed her eyes and sunk completely beneath the surface. The distorted drip, drop of the leaky faucet was all that penetrated the warm cocoon of water and emptiness.

What am I gonna do?

Penny's lungs began to burn, but she stayed under.

What if I just stay here?

The thought numbed the burning in her chest. It would be simple, it would be easy. It would be no one's fault but my own, like everything else that's gone wrong in my life.

The easy way out? I've never done anything the easy way. Maybe it's time.

The world was shimmering, becoming dizzy and dream-like. Penny stayed under, held by the crushing weight of her own hopelessness.

Who will miss me? What will I miss? What do I regret?

Does it even matter?

Penny's final thoughts were of the ocean, and the feeling of the Pacific surf hitting her feet mercilessly.

* * *

Penny's first thought, piercing the darkness: who is kissing me?

The lips were soft and her eyes were closed. She couldn't seem to find the energy to open them, or to push the culprit away. She didn't have the energy for anything but thought, and even that was wearing her out.

Then she felt the air being forced into her lungs, and she understood. She began to choke and cough and sputter, and a fountain of water seemed to rise from her mouth.

Still coughing, she forced her eyes open. A soaked towel modestly covered her body; she was still in her bathtub, surrounded by a shallow pool of water. Above her, Sheldon wiped at his mouth and watched her with wide eyes.

"What...?" She tried to say more, but every breath brought more choking and retching. She wiped at her blurry vision with the wet towel.

It took Sheldon a moment to find his voice. "I... came to get you for dinner. You didn't answer when I knocked, which was unusual. I entered your apartment under the premise that something was wrong, and after checking every other room, I found you unconscious in the bathtub." He looked around at everything but her. "I drained the water and performed CPR. Thankfully, you came around."

Penny didn't know what to say. She simply sat in stunned silence for a moment and tried to wrap her mind about what she'd nearly done. She didn't know whether she should be deeply embarrassed or thankful or angry at herself for being so selfish and stupid.

"Sheldon, I was..." But her words trailed off when she noticed that his hands were trembling against the edge of the tub.

"I know," was all he said.

"I am so sorry," she whispered. "And so stupid." Naked and full of fear and gratitude, she sat up and threw her arms around Sheldon's neck. He curled a tentative hand around her and brushed his fingers against the nape of her neck.

"Please don't ever do that again," he murmured into her ear.

Penny could only sob in response.


	4. The Experiment

_Ok, so I was being very... um... liberal with my Penny voice in this one, but it was SO fun to write, and I had to give the "Sheldon propositions Penny for sex" trope a shot. That season 4 episode could have easily gone in this direction, but noooo... _

_Anyway, this is rated S for SUPER SEXY (M in other words), although you'll probably hate me at the end. _

* * *

Thirsty. It's the first thought that runs through my head at 4 am when a far-away noise wakes me up and I hit the alarm clock out of habit. Too much drink, too dehydrated, too tired to think complete thoughts. A sliver of light is leaking in through my open blinds (why are they open? Oh, that's right, I went to bed drunk after consuming two bottles of wine. By myself. God, even that idiot Zack is starting to look like prime boyfriend material, it's been so long.) and is determined to burn through my eyelids and into my retinas and brain and whatever else is in my head. Maybe the light will burn through my entire pathetic life and give me the chance to start over. Maybe go back to college, maybe take the easy way out and get a business degree. What kind of idiot am I, anyway, thinking I could make a career out of acting? I'm not friggin' Julia Roberts.

Ugh. Too much thinking for such a late hour. I roll over and throw a pillow over my head, but another dull noise from the living room filters through the fibers. Panic slices through me; am I being robbed? Who would rob me? They're probably seriously disappointed by my complete lack of expensive electronics and the ridiculous collection of shoes strewn about. Maybe the thud was them tripping over a shoe and falling on their face. That'd be pretty rich.

I tumble out of bed and grab the baseball bat resting behind the door. I have a shotgun, too, but I'm in the mood to beat someone with a blunt object.

A sea of plaid greets me when I peer around the corner and into the living room. I relax my grip on the bat; it's only Sheldon, cleaning my apartment. It's a little weird that I'm okay with this, but it's happened enough at this point that I really can't do much but shake my head and sigh.

"Sheldon," I whisper. No response. Hmm. Quietly, I ease up behind him and jab him in the back with an index finger.

To his credit, he doesn't scream, but his earphones do go flying everywhere and he springs up into the air like a petrified kitten. He stumbles around in a circle to face me, eyes all bugged out of his head, but I'm already on my way to the kitchen cabinet.

"Good Lord, Penny, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you do creepy things like clean my apartment in the middle of the night," I retort. "Speaking of: Why are you cleaning my apartment in the middle of the night?" This should really be weirder than it is.

"Couldn't sleep. And I find cleaning to be a comforting and pleasurable pastime, and I already cleaned my own apartment during last night's bout of insomnia."

Now that I'm actually looking at him, I can see that his eyes are a little glossed over and orbited by dark, heavy circles. "Something on your mind?"

"Why else would sleep be eluding me?" He scoffs and goes back to cleaning. I take a sip of my delicious cup of water and almost die, it's so refreshing.

"Yeah... well... all right. Good night, Sheldon." I should kick him out, but my apartment is _really_ dirty and I certainly don't have the time or the energy to clean it. And I don't really mind that my crazy neighbor uses my spare key to break in at night and fold the clean laundry I was too lazy to put away.

At least, I hope that laundry's clean.

I'm nearly in the clear when I hear him say, "But I haven't told you about what's on my mind."

"Oh, balls," I mutter under my breath. Trying to garner patience, I wander back into the living room and settle myself into the crook of the couch. "Ok, sweetie, what's on your mind?" I take another exquisite gulp of water.

"Coitus," He says, and I have to fight to keep the water from spraying all over the daisy-fresh coffee table.

"I thought we agreed that you'd never use that word again?" I sputter.

"Oh, yes. I apologize. Intercourse, then."

Ok, all right, yeah. I can't do this. "I'm sure Leonard can answer any and all questions you might have about-"

"But you're the one who suggested it," he points out, and then I remember. Impromptu laundry night and him telling me about Amy being horny, and me saying that maybe there's something he could do about it. He'd said something like, 'Oh... _oh_' and then had run upstairs, and I'd made the decision to drink a bottle of wine. Jesus, I have a drinking problem.

"I guess I did, didn't I." Sighing, I stretch myself out on the couch. "I'm sure I'm gonna regret asking this, but what's the problem?"

"I understand that this is a necessary evil," he begins, "And it isn't that I am unfamiliar with the mechanics. Of course, I find the entire process to be messy and animalistic, but as the primary method by which human beings reproduce, I suppose that participating in it is ultimately inevitable."

"Sheldon, have you ever even _had_ sex?" I ask and immediately I want to take it back. Oh God, this is not information I need to know.

"Well, no," he admits. What a relief; I don't have to picture it in my head now.

"Then you don't know anything. How can you make judgments about something when you've never even had a go at it yourself? That seems very... unscientific of you."

He cocks his head thoughtfully, and something in my stomach sinks. Oh, no, I've done that _thing_. The thing where I point out an inconsistency in his thought processes and instead of vehemently denying it like a normal person, he actually agrees with me. Yes, I learned the word 'vehemently' from him, and it's a lot of fun to say, actually.

What time is it again? Christ.

"I suppose you're right." He considers. "As a scientist, it is imperative that I test my hypotheses. I hypothesize that sex is ultimately disgusting and unsatisfactory, and now I need to test that hypothesis."

"There you go," I say, rising from my spot on the couch. "Hit up Amy; I'm sure she'll be game."

"Amy's current situation suggests that she is attracted to men with at least some sexual experience," Sheldon says. "I have none. Therefore, in order for her to harbor any attraction to me, it is likely that I must accrue my own sexual experience elsewhere."

I don't like where this is going. Avoid the point, Penny, and for as long as possible. "Are you attracted to Amy?"

"Intellectually? Yes, although I think she is overbearing at times and I have no patience for her general disregard of theoretical physics."

"What about, you know, sexually?" Why am I asking? Why am I curious? Where is all of this going?

"Not particularly," he says, and I'm surprised by how quickly the answer comes to him. "But my own attraction isn't all that important. As a friend, I feel obligated to help her along the path of intellectual enlightenment. One of the hurdles on this path appears to be her base sexual urges that she for some reason cannot suppress."

Sheldon and Amy. Having sex. I imagine them spouting facts at each other the entire time and I am all at once horrified and endlessly amused. Please let it be time to sleep again.

"But to return to my point," I hear Sheldon saying, "I propose that you aid me in examining my hypothesis. You are sexually experienced and your recent trip to the gynecologist revealed no sexually transmitted infections, and we are also friends and carry the levels of trust that go along with that friendship."

"Oh God oh God" is all that I can say. I shrink into a ball on the couch and try to scrub the words from my brain. "No, Sheldon. No. Not a good idea. A Very, Very Bad idea."

"But why?" he asks, all innocent and genuinely confused. He is so socially retarded that I can't even really be mad at him, but the whole thing is so awful and weird that I don't know what else to say. I can't even really give him a good reason.

I mean, think about it, I say in my head. I'm great at no-strings-attached sex, always have been. And I do _really_ like it. And here's someone I trust who can learn from me, who is propositioning me out of nothing but a cold, clinical sort of scientific experiment. No feelings, no love, no mushy cuddling afterward. Just me... and Sheldon... having sex. Ok. Yeah.

"Just... sex makes things weird between people, ok?" I say it even though I don't really believe it for myself. "If it didn't, people would be banging left and right with no thought as to how it would affect their relationships."

"Most people are afflicted with the difficulties of emotional attachment," Sheldon says. "I, for one, am not, and judging by the large number of men that have passed through your apartment over the past four years, I would say that you are very much capable of emotional detachment."

"It is NOT a large number," I growl. From my safe little haven away from the terror that is Sheldon Cooper, I peer out and take in his weird praying mantis head, his long limbs, his tired eyes. He's not exactly ugly; poorly dressed most of the time and with hair so neat that I want to stick a hand it in it every time I see him and mess it the hell up, yeah, but not ugly. Just not really... the type I usually go for. But he's tired, and he's brilliant, and obviously he needs sleep much more than I do, and I have this unsettling feeling that he won't be sleeping until he gets a certain something out of his system. Shit.

"Ok. You can't say anything to Leonard about this," I mutter. "Or Amy. Or anybody. This is top-secret, and I will absolutely slit your throat in your sleep and let your blood drip all over your mint condition comic books if you utter even a word."

His eyes get that crazy bulging look again, but he swallows and nods.

"I'm only helping you out because you're my friend and because I have a feeling if I don't do this, nobody will." Taking one for the team is the official term for it, but he doesn't need to know that. "You don't get to object, or bitch, or tell me I'm doing something wrong, because I'm the authority in this particular situation. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," he says.

"Good. Now, come sit over here." He does. He looks at me; I look at him. I want to bolt, but instead I crawl over and straddle his lap.

"Also, no kissing." I'm not sure why, but it seems right. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman never kissed anybody, and it seemed to work out pretty well for her, until Richard Gere came along.

Oh, great, now I'm comparing myself to a hooker.

Sheldon is still looking at me, looking right through me. It's funny how he's the only one of the guys who can unflinchingly meet my gaze. He's the only one with any real confidence. He's arrogant and an asshole, but at least he knows what he's capable of and isn't afraid to put himself out there. It's kind of endearing, sort of.

We're nose to nose, and I can see his pulse thrumming below the skin on his neck. What now?

Stall, stall. "Um, actually, let me go get the... supplies," I say, scrambling off his lap and sprinting to the bedroom. I pull out a handful of condoms from the drawer next to my bed. What size? What kind? Oh, fuck it, better just bring them all. And probably the lube, too. Always be prepared.

I walk reluctantly back into the living room, where Sheldon hasn't budged. Maybe the next ten minutes will reveal that he is, in fact, a robot or an alien from another planet and none of this will have to happen.

I dump the contents of my hand onto the table and try to focus on the awful pattern on Sheldon's robe. "So, uh, I don't really know what gets you going or anything, but it'd probably help things along if you, you know..."

A blank stare, and then, thankfully, blissfully, he connects the dots. "Oh, yes. A moment." He closes his eyes.

Hand-to-God, it takes thirty seconds, tops.

"I believe I am sufficiently aroused now," he announces, and sure enough, the evidence is pretty clear when I glance down.

"That was... fast." In spite of myself, I'm pretty damn impressed. At least if physics ever falls through, he's got a bright future in the adult film industry.

"Would you like to know what I thought-"

"NO. No. I wouldn't, thanks."

I climb aboard again and can feel him against my thigh and it's like high school all over again. Me, in the know, fumbling around in the backseats of chevys with boys who think they know everything but really know nothing. Except Sheldon really does know everything, sans this, and suddenly it's my responsibility to do it right. No pressure.

"Okay, so, Sex 101," I begin, my voice lower than I want it to be but steady. "When in doubt, let the girl be on top. It puts her in control of what happens, which is usually a good thing, because most guys aren't anywhere near as good at sex as they think they are."

"Noted," Sheldon says. This may actually be worse than the sex ed tape I watched as a freshman.

"If you want to touch a girl, be gentle about it, unless she says otherwise. And if she says no, you stop. No questions asked."

"Do I have permission to touch you?" Oh, how cute, he's asking. He's probably afraid I'll punch him in the throat if he makes any sudden movements.

"Um, sure," I say to the pair of hands stiff at his sides. He gives me an uncertain look, raises his hands, hesitates, and then finally gently trails his fingers down the length of my arms.

I blink. "Seriously, you have permission. I don't bite. Just... whatever."

He gains a little courage and flutters up past my shoulders to the soft skin under my ears. "The erogenous zones of the human body are varied and rather interesting for the physiological responses they produce," he murmurs, tracing small circles below my earlobe and at the back of my neck. A passing breeze makes me shudder. "The non-specific areas, like the nape of the neck, can produce mild responses." His fingers meander down my chest. "The specific areas produce decidedly stronger responses." His hands move lower, dipping below the waistband of my shorts. I twitch involuntarily.

Ok, so maybe Sheldon spouting factoids can be a little sexy.

"Let's get you out of those pants," I breathe with his hands still on me. Never thought I'd say that to Sheldon, but there you are.

He looks a little let down. "But I thought foreplay was a necessary and vital element of sexual-"

"I think all our bases are covered in that department." Truth be told, him touching me and talking about erogenous zones kind of turned me on a lot and I want to cut to the chase before I can decide whether or not I'm ok with the situation.

We shimmy out of our respective bottoms and I do a little tactile exploring. I'm rewarded with a sharp intake of air, almost a gasp.

"This is... very distracting," Sheldon whispers, and I can't help but wonder if he's been trying to do some sort of fancy math problem in his head this entire time. All men are wired the same way, and Sheldon's no exception; completely incapable of multitasking when their dicks are involved.

"I think that's the point," I whisper back, running my thumb over a sensitive spot and enjoying the response. Guess he isn't a robot after all.

But then he slips a hand past mine and, holy crap, where the hell did he learn to do that?

"I learned on the Internet that women do not often achieve orgasm through intercourse, and that manual stimulation..." But I've stopped listening and my brain is a jittery mess of sensation. Damn him, he's supposed to be the novice here.

I twist a hand through his short hair and try to control the small noises my throat is making. "Sheldon... good lord... where the hell on the Internet were you reading?"

"Not reading." An image of Sheldon intently watching porn and taking notes flashes through my head and I let out a throaty giggle.

"I don't think laughter is the correct response," Sheldon says, his eyebrows pushed forward in disapproval.

"Are you gonna punish me?" The line is so cheesy that I find myself giggling again, this time into his ear. Then, guiltily, I sit back a little and rest my hands on his chest. "I'm sorry, Sheldon, I don't think I can do this. It's just too... too..."

"Strange?"

"Yeah." Thank God. I sigh heavily in relief and start to move away from him, but he catches my wrist.

"So are you saying that you're, as my father would say, a quitter?" He's got this weird glint in his eyes, like he knows he's found my weakness.

"This is a really, really bad time to quote a parent," I say with a note of uncertainty. "And I don't think this makes us quitters."

His grip on my wrist tightens. "I, for one, have never turned my back on a worthy experiment, and I know you to be a stubborn woman."

"As stubborn as they come." A little grin creeps into the corners of his mouth and I want to smack him. Or maybe kiss him. It's hard to say, really.

"So?"

Oh, to hell with it. "Challenge accepted," I say with a smirk before pushing him roughly backward and pinning his thighs between mine.


End file.
